Moonlight's Ambassador (Aileen Travers Book 3)(48)

All I'd gotten for my troubles was a bruised ass and ripped jeans. I fingered the rip and curled one lip. Another pair destroyed. Apparently, I was way harder on my casual wear as one of the fanged than I'd ever been as a human. This was the third pair I'd damaged this month. At this rate, I'd need to make another trip to the thrift store.

Before that, I needed to go on a little excursion to the north side of the city and see a sorcerer about a tracking spell. Destination decided, I retrieved my bike and climbed on, setting my feet on the pedals.

I really didn't want to go and see the sorcerer. Last time, he'd managed to force me to pull out my own eye. Not an experience I wanted to repeat, but for Caroline, I just might have to.

I set off on the bike, making my way to one of the numerous bike paths. Over the past few years, Columbus has made a serious effort to turn itself into the Seattle of the Midwest. In addition to an influx of hipster restaurants, it’s torn up many of the city's streets, remodeling them to make them friendlier to cyclists by installing bike lanes. It was safer for those of us who choose to travel by two wheels rather than four, and it also made it easier to bike from one end of the city to the other without having to worry about getting hit by a car on a busy road.

After a short ride that snaked through campus and then a longer jaunt along the bike lane on East Seventeenth Avenue, I turned onto the Alum Creek bike path, which would take me over to the eastern side of the city and let me out right next to Easton. It was only a short ride from there to the office building that I suspected the sorcerer owned.

In all the times I'd visited his office, I'd never seen any sign of other tenants. Just him, and on rare occasions, the receptionist I suspected was a mirage created by his magic. Granted, I usually arrived at night when most sane humans were home with their families, but there still should have been some sign of a normal's presence. Like a security guard standing sentinel in case anybody needed to check in, or the rare person working late—at least that's how the movies always portrayed it. I'd never worked an office job before, so I wouldn't know.

The sorcerer's office was on the top floor of the building, which meant I bypassed the elevators, not wanting to bother with them when the stairs were nearly as fast.

I was only breathing lightly once I reached the fifth floor, thankful for the increased stamina being a vampire gave me.

This time there was no receptionist waiting, no click-clacking of computer keys, or answering of phones. I paused on the threshold, glancing around the small welcome area before continuing through the double doors across the room. Unlike the first time, they didn't lead into a humongous room filled with a night sky as its ceiling. For a moment, I saw a mirage of the typical boardroom found in offices like this, a long table lined with chairs, a white board in the corner, and one of those starfish speakers for important meetings.

Beneath that image was an alchemist's dream—one that would have been at home in some medieval castle of old, complete with beakers of odd colored liquid on tables, and old leather-bound books on the tables and shelves. It was a room I'd been in twice before.

I blinked, and the boardroom disappeared, my magic-seeing eye breaking the illusion. Funny, I thought the alchemist room would be the one to disappear since it bent the laws of physics. Not the case.

The sorcerer wandered in from another door, giving a glimpse of stone steps spiraling down behind it. He was absorbed in the book he held and didn't immediately notice my presence. It gave me a rare chance to study him.

Peter Barrett, as I'd come to know him, looked like a teenager, although he asserted to anyone who’d listen that he was actually decades older. His exact age was a mystery, but I knew he was older than fifty. How much older was still the question. Tall and gangly, he had limbs that he'd yet to grow into. Given half the chance to mature, he'd be considered cute once he'd grown into the angles of his face. His green eyes were among the most vivid and beautiful that I'd ever seen. All this was ruined by the fact that he was a complete and utter asshole.

I'd never been one to condone violence against the young and innocent, but Peter had pushed me right over that line. It was a good thing he wasn't actually a teenager, or I'd feel like a monster in truth.

He shuffled over to one of the tables, his lips moving as he mouthed whatever he was reading. It would have been endearing if he wasn't a little ass prone to shitty behavior.

He reached up, pushing a lock of dark hair back from his face, copper flashing at his wrist.

That bastard.

"I see you found a use for the cuff, after all," I said, my eyes narrowed on him and my jaw tight. That was funny—and not in a ha-ha way—given the amount of grief he'd put me through after I'd stuck him with the copper genie cuff that cut him off from his powers. Given the torture he'd subjected me to because of it, I found it interesting he would be wearing it again.

He jerked back, the book falling from his hands with a thump, his eyes wide and startled. "Aileen, how did you get past my wards?"

My steps hesitated. What wards? I hadn't noticed anything on my way in here. I didn't want him to notice my confusion—information was a weapon best wielded carefully—so I shrugged. "Maybe they're not as good as you think they are."

He bent a displeased look on me, attitude oozing from him. "Not likely. You did something. I know it. What was it this time? A null bomb? A charm from the witches? Or maybe you got something from the same place you got this?" He raised the hand that was wearing the cuff.